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Sorrow

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It's not a funeral. Nobody to mourn over.

Must Not Be a Working Bird

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I said, “That bird is hungry.” The sparrow was eying both of us At our separate outside café tables As it hopped around looking for crumbs. Then it would look up at us Expectantly.

Pop Bottle?

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Who ever saw an open upright pop bottle on the street?

Scanner

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The Bearcat 101 was a police scanner popular with a certain type during in the 1970s. Daddy was that exact type. I found the Bearcat in his apartment after he passed. His illness was a common one, the process gradual, implacable. No red and blue…

What He Delivered

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Hollywood Forever

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Johnny and Dee Dee Ramone crack open an Old Bushmill’s and offer John Huston a pull.

Poleward

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We hit the road, headed west.

I Have a Hard Time Having a Good Time

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At the third or fourth discotheque I drink so much I accidentally find myself happy.

Hey, That's One Gulp per Magic Fish to You, Bub

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This is the hole I fell in. I can sort of crawl out of it now, but I must have fallen fastasleep in there. Does it really matter if it was for a long or a short time? Everyone is suddenly gone like a smile and replaced lately by sadly different versions…

It happened

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She became a murderer in all the stages of her life she could not seem to succeed

A Killing in the Market

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Everyone hoped to be assigned somewhere they could just drop in on their way home for Memorial Day weekend. Someone said, Blake, you’re single. You hate your family, don’t you?

The Writer and the Talker

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"I’ve always wanted to write a novel. Like Catch-22, something off-beat that would start by word-of-mouth, you know, and become an underground classic."

Love Tracer

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(2:56 a.m.): "Hi it's Charlie it's Pat at 4:00 in the morning my time. I just wanna tell you that I wouldn't mind getting him in bed with you the rest of my life."

we're all in there somewhere

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We ask was that me? The one on the corner with his hat tipped to the jaunty side? I've wore hats, I've stood on corners. Am I not jaunty?

The Monday Wednesday Friday War

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Ginny, the mother, was a lark in every respect of the word. Born and raised in central California farm country, to a family of lower middle class means, educated in public schools in whose bathroom stalls she was deflowered as unceremoniously as a pig ta

We Are Waiting For The Wolves

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You say we will go together to the park and dig a shallow grave and atone for everything we ever did by breathing soil deep into our lungs, and the wolves will leave.

Nunc Stans

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I missed the cadence and remembered the verse too late. Now, that place where everything comes together is a first taste of things that have somehow become slightly bitter, and I was choking on it.

Am I Anna Karenina?

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You’re often photographed at Martha’s Vineyard at sunrise, Key West on New Year’s Day, Coney Island on Christmas, and variously at dive bars in Montauk. You’re a woman of a certain age and you are also a woman of the world. You’re a 21st century

Brothers

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The young boy woke to the sound of laughter. He blinked himself out of deep sleep and allowed…

Quicksand

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God damn you women get me all / twisted up thinking oohrahrah and lala

Lethargy

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‘Your hands are very clean’ she said to the furniture salesman. His name was Morrison. "After Jim" Morrison Pentworthy. His father specialized in Doors.

Self-Portrait of Someone Else (excerpt)

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Recently I think I became someone else. When the alarm clock rings in the morning, it sounds sharper than usual; getting up, my feet don't seem to quite touch the floor; looking into my bathroom mirror, my face seems to be melting, sliding, my eyes dri

You Left Forever Sitting on my Doorstep

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and so I'm staying here where I am a little while (longer). Who knows where the time sleeps? I don't think I'll ever catch up with your heart again. That's the same lame novel approach I'm always stepping into to…

The Space Between Words (Valentines Day)

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Looking for meaning in spaces between words.

Voices From a Playground

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"Eye contact is essential as it shows confidence. I walk with purpose and hope that my skirt isn’t too short. "

Bliss

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cherubs blow their bugles, dye their hair an unnatural green, fart until no cows come home.

They Are Lying

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like the icecold yellow wolves they are when they say they believe in love. What they're really doing is trying to game the outcome in their hungry for your living blood(y) favors. This shouldn't really…

Afterglow

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The drone of radio seeps into the car’s back seat… I hear only bits and pieces of information –

Abre La Puerta

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My daughter, now four, can count to 15 in Spanish. How old are you? Cuatro. How old will you be on your birthday? Cinco. She likes Dora and thinks Diego is weird.

One Way (for Tina Kieffer)

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This mother, she buys a one way ticket whenever she visits her three daughters who have wandered far from the eyes of her pearlescent knitting needles and tutti-frutti yarns.